


And it's You

by Brightest_Moonstone



Series: they're playing our song... [5]
Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Vi did not sign up for this, back by popular demand, post Sly 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightest_Moonstone/pseuds/Brightest_Moonstone
Summary: Vi never forgot a face.That was Sly Cooper.She looked down… Sly Cooper, not wearing handcuffs.... that was not a good sign
Relationships: Sly Cooper/Carmelita Fox
Series: they're playing our song... [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/796461
Comments: 22
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yo what up my socially isolating peeps. You thought this series was done and so did I but it turns out I had one more in me!   
> So a couple of people asked 'what happens next?' after "You Probably Think This Song is About You" so I pulled together mine and Mayurei's joking epilogue into a halfway coherent fic and here we are.  
> I know that the world is kind of scary at the minute so I hope this silly fic brings some levity if you need it.
> 
> Have a happy Easter/Passover/long weekend. Stay safe and enjoy.

Viola Greyfairés’ morning began much the same way as most of her mornings did, her and her husband’s alarms trilling, ten minutes of sleepy cuddles then another ten of them untangling their tails. Then they stood side by side in the bathroom, Viola doing her make up and Jacques brushing his midnight blue fur to a glossy sheen, the two of them putting on their glasses to blink in unison at their reflections. Then Vi brewing coffee while Jacques made breakfast, eating together perched at the centre island in their kitchen before grabbing their lunches and walking to the Metro station.

It was still early when they arrived at the Interpol, the offices mostly empty as the last of the night shift drifted out and the first of the day shift began drifting in. Viola cast a glance, more in hope than expectation down the hall toward Carmelita’s office but it was as it had been for the last few weeks, firmly shut up and dark.

She sighed.

Noticing her weary expression Jacques placed a comforting hand on her back. “Inspector Fox will be fine love,” he said. He followed her gaze, staring at the door.   
“She’s always pulled through before.”

“She’s been out of radio contact _days_ Jacques.”

“I know, but Inspector Fox warned us that might happen before she left.”

“What if she sunk? What if there was some terrible storm and she’s not coming back? What if she’s floating on some piece of wreckage out there in the South Pacific all alone?”

“Then we’ll go find her.”

Viola turned to rest her forehead against her husband’s shoulder. “You mean that?”

Jacques rubbed circles on her back, “of course, I’ll charter a boat.”

Goodness she loved him, and she told him so. She counted herself very lucky that she had found someone who let her have her eccentricities and understood her depth of loyalty to her friends. “You’re wonderful.”

Jacques just kissed her on the crown of her head. “If the Inspector isn’t back by the end of the week, I’ll request my vacation days, you book us some flights and we’ll go find her. Deal?”

Viola lifted her head and smiled. “Deal.”

Jacques had to go and speak with an officer on the night shift about some forensic auditing so Viola drifted toward her own desk to start the day.

The bullpen was mostly empty, the occasional _‘ding’_ of the elevator sounding as investigators began to trickle onto the floor.

Sighing to herself Viola began arranging her desk, sorting papers and logging into her computer. Carmelita would be fine, Jacques was right but Viola felt justified in her worry, the last time Carmelita had been gone this long was after she’d disappeared in the Czech Republic and had then rung Viola from Canada of all places, demanding a helicopter. Which Viola had gotten authorised for her after only mild bullying of Chief Barkley.

And then there was the matter of Sly Cooper’s reappearance. 

It had been a lonely year for Viola after Carmelita had been transferred, she’d missed her best friend but had been convinced that it was all for the best, Carm had needed time and distance and then Cooper had (quite deliberately in Viola’s mind) crashed back into Carmelita’s life in Venice and Carm had been transferred back to Paris and reassigned to his case. And even though Carmelita had insisted to Viola that she was alright and that the past was firmly behind her, Viola had been less than convinced.

Maybe it wasn’t just that Carmelita was radio silent or that both she and Sly had ignored Viola’s warnings, there was an anomalous anxiety sitting just behind Viola’s ribs and as she moved things around her desk it took shape as a fear that Cooper had somehow convinced Carmelita to run away with him. A child could see Carmelita’s attraction to Cooper and Carmelita had a sordid history of bad decisions were Cooper, and that attraction was concerned.

Viola sighed again; this was ridiculous. There was an early grave waiting for her if she kept stressing over this.

Viola glanced up, no sign of Barkley yet and her phone was already flashing as calls queued up. She’d need to…  
.  
.  
.  
…. Viola’s train of thought was abruptly derailed as she looked up again and saw Carmelita alive and in one piece striding across the bullpen.

“Carm!” Viola nearly vaulted her desk but remembered she was wearing stockings and a pencil skirt and scurried around it instead. “You’re back. What happened? We were so worried.” As she reached her friend arms outstretched, she faltered noticing Carmelita’s shadow. Carmelita was being followed a step behind by a young, male raccoon… and, _oh_ he was bandaged six ways from Sunday and he wore no mask but Vi never forgot a face.

That was Sly Cooper.

She looked down… Sly Cooper, not wearing handcuffs.

Her head shot up and she looked back to Carmelita, her mouth open…

But before she could say anything Carmelita grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into Barkley’s empty office.

“Vi I can explain.” Carmelita started with, which in Viola’s experience was never a good sign. She looked around, “where’s Barkley?”

“He’s not in yet because it’s 8:15 and not everybody in this office sleeps at their desks.” Viola snapped.

“Dammit. I wanted to talk to him first.”

“You can talk to me first.” Viola exclaimed indignantly. “Carm that is Sly Cooper.”

Carmelita paused awkwardly, which was another bad sign. “….technically yessss.”

“Not arrested.”

“…nnnoooo.” Carmelita squirmed, which was a very bad sign.

“Then what is he doing here? How did you get him to just walk into Interpol…?” And then something Carmelita had said caught up to her. “Wait what do you mean ‘technically’?”

“It’s a long story Vi, I’ll tell you after I’ve talked to Barkley.”

“Oh no.” Viola said, seating herself on the Chief’s desk and folding her arms. “We’re talking now. Start at the beginning Carm.”

Carmelita sighed and sank into a chair, and told Viola everything. Which as it turned out was a lot.

“…what... what do you mean he has amnesia?” Viola asked massaging her temples, trying to comprehend the story about mutates and vaults and pirate ships.

“I mean he took a hit for me, got knocked flying for the second time in a day and when he woke up, he didn’t remember anything and I… I panicked and I told him he was Interpol.”

Viola took off her glasses to scrub at her face and then remembered the twenty five minutes she had spent doing her make up that morning and went back to massaging her temples instead. “Carm…” She said.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds Vi, he’ll be a great asset. That’s why I need to speak to Barkley, he can put through the paperwork so we can have Sly on the force officially.”

“Official… You want to recruit him? Carm you can’t just lie to him about his whole life.” Viola put her glasses back on and slid off the desk. “Was this really your plan? Make up a new name for him, forge paperwork and bring your boss in on the conspiracy?”

Carmelita blinked. “….I didn’t.”

“What? _Think_?”

“Make up a new name for him.”

Viola blinked back at her friend. “So, you just… you just told him his name was Sly Cooper? The fifteenth most wanted criminal on Interpol’s list? You didn’t think that might raise a few questions in his job?”

“I told you I panicked.”

“Carm this is the worst thing you have ever, ever done. The. Worst.” She pointed an accusatory finger, “and I include Millie Gillespie’s fourteenth birthday party in that.”

Carmelita gasped, then narrowed her eyes, ears laid flat against her head she leant forward in her seat and hissed, “you promised you’d never bring up the sleepover incident.” 

Viola ignored her, “how are you going to explain any of this?” She began to pace and a thought struck her. “Actually… how do you know he’s not just faking this whole thing?”

“He’s not.” Carmelita said, she’d pulled her tail into her lap and was hurriedly her fingers through it, which was a very, _very_ bad sign.

Huffing Viola stalked over to the window and peered out through the venetian blinds, she could see Cooper fidgeting in a chair, and as if sensing her gaze, he looked over. There was a flash of fear as their eyes met and he hurriedly looked away.

_Hmph_. Viola let the blinds snap closed. Good, he should be scared of her. How dare he come back into Carmelita’s life like this, how dare he ignore her warnings…. _Wait_ , if he really had amnesia, why would he be scared of her? 

_He was faking!_

She spun on her heel. He was lying _!_ She took two angry steps back across the office, he was lying to Carmelita… who… was… lying to him. Viola stopped mid-stride.

Oh god. They deserved each other _!_

“Vi?” Carmelita frowned at her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Viola said more to herself than to Carmelita. If this was how the pair of them wanted to behave then Viola was out. She was done meddling; they could fail together. Let this whole mess collapse in on itself and they could pick up the pieces themselves. She let out a sharp breath, “I’m not going to stop you Carm but I’m not going to help you either.”

“Vi…” Carmelita’s face crumpled.

“What I am going to do is tell you one more time that this is a bad idea. I don’t know what your endgame here is but you can’t build a relationship on a lie and I just want you to think about that, please Carm.”

“I couldn’t arrest him Vi, he saved my life, he doesn’t remember what he’s done, it wouldn’t be…”

“Right?” Viola raised a brow. 

“…fair.” Carmelita said miserably, letting her hands fall into her lap. Carmelita had never been one to worry about ‘fairness’ versus ‘justice’. The law was the law and that was that. 

Viola shook her head, “I hope you know what you’re doing Carm.” She said and walked back to her desk.

* * *

Sly sat outside Barkley’s office while Carmelita talked to her boss. He was practically vibrating with nerves, all of his thief instincts were screaming at him, _surrounded by cops not safe, not safe, go, go, go._ So Sly did what he normally did when he was nervous – he started cracking jokes.

"Gary, buddy. How’s it going?” He made finger guns at a random passing officer. “Dave did you have a good weekend? Lucy, looking good. Did you get a haircut? Jean-Luc, my man, how’s the wife?”

A zebra in a mustard yellow shirt and brown tie paused, looking around the hallway and back to Sly. He pointed at himself in confusion. “Do you mean me? My name is Gaspard… and I’m not married.”

_Yeah, that shirt was a dead giveaway_. Sly wanted to say. Instead he gestured to his bandaged head. “Oh sorry, my mistake. Head injury, amnesia. Whatcha gonna do?” He spread his hands.

The zebra frowned, shook his head and kept walking. Sly sat back, one leg jigging frantically, he’d noticed that he was starting to draw a crowd, a handful of officers were loitering near Miss Secretary’s desk whispering and shooting entirely unsubtle looks in his direction.

He ignored them but he did start doing some mental calculations as to how far he was from the nearest window and how quickly he could get to it if everything went wrong.

“Good morning Inspector Le Han, Inspector Martin, Inspector Dubois, Sergeant Berger.” A voice chirped.

The entire group startled and parted to reveal Carmelita’s friend Vi, smiling and holding a steaming mug.

“M…Miss Cecily.” One of the Inspectors, a moose at least twice Vi’s height actually stuttered at the sight of her.

Vi tilted her head and a loose strand of auburn hair slipped from her bun. “Is your business with the Chief urgent? He is in a debrief at the moment but I can page you when he’s done.”

“We don’t need to see the Chief.” The sergeant blurted.

“Oh?” Vi’s head tiled the other way, big blue eyes a picture of innocence. “I am sorry, I just assumed that four of Interpol’s best officers would have better things to do than stand around gossiping.”

Sly let out an involuntary snort of laughter that he hastily turned into a cough and watched as the group slunk away, some quite literally with their tails between their legs. A moose, a bear and two cougars all completely cowed by a mouse in a cardigan and pencil skirt.

Vi watched them, whiskers twitching agitatedly then walked over to Sly, passing him the mug. “Here _Constable_. For you.”

“Oh thanks.” Sly said in surprise. He’d been worried that the formidable Miss Secretary wouldn’t buy his story, he took a sip of his tea, guess he should have had more faith in his acting abilities. He took another sip; it was a really good cup of tea. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name? I’m not sure if Inspector Fox told you about my situation…”

“Oh, she told me.” Vi said with a tight smile. “I’m Chief Barkley’s secretary. Viola Greyfairés, but most everyone in the office still calls me by my maiden name, makes it easier than having two mice named Greyfairés on the same floor I suppose.” She did that dangerous head tilt again. “I’m actually a friend of Carmelita’s… and you and I, we have met before.”

“Have we?” Sly drank another mouthful of tea. “I’m sorry I don’t remember.” He said with his best pitiable expression.

“Mm.” She hummed. “How’s your tea?”

“It’s great, it’s…” Sly paused, it was a good cup of tea… too good. In fact, it was just how he liked it, milky with three sugars. “….it’s uh…” he stuttered. “It’s really good.”

Vi was still smiling at him and Sly suddenly remembered that this woman _destroyed_ people who messed with Carmelita and Sly had just walked – willingly- into her world. He started to sweat.

“Oh, I’m so glad you like it, I wasn’t sure if you’d still like the same way as the last time I’d made it for you…. Oh.” She lifted a hand to her mouth, that wide-eyed innocent look back again. “But I suppose you wouldn’t remember that either would you.”

Sly swallowed, hard. Oh, she _definitely_ wasn’t buying. She knew.

“You know I was just so worried when Carmelita disappeared off to the South Pacific, especially after all the warnings I’d given her but sometimes your best advice doesn’t get followed and all you can do is trust your friend to make their own decisions. And if something goes wrong… well…” She shrugged. “You work on making it better, don’t you?” She said staring directly into Sly’s soul.

Sly could feel himself sweating even harder now, should he keep playing dumb (or rather amnesic) or was it time to jump out that window? 

He was saved from making that decision as Barkley’s door opened and Carmelita walked out.

“Vi?” She frowned at them, looking perhaps a little nervous.

“Just bringing the _Constable_ some tea while he waited.” Vi said sunnily, sitting back behind her desk.

“Oh… right. Okay.” She turned back to Sly, “Sly, Barkley wants to have an Interpol doctor look you over, just to confirm what the hospital said… for our records.”

Sly nodded. “Sure.”

“Then what?” Vi asked.

“What do you mean?” Carmelita was scowling at her friend, giving her a clear _‘you’re not helping’_ look. 

“What will you do after you’ve seen the doctor? I need to know so that I can update the _Constable’s_ file. Is he on medically mandated leave? Is he straight back onto active duty?”

Carmelita gritted her teeth, “I suppose it depends on what the doctor says.”

“Mm.” Vi nodded. “What would you like to do _Constable_ , will you stay in the hospital or will you go home?”

“I’d like to go home, if I’m allowed.” Sly replied. “It’s just a shame I don’t remember where home is.” He said, smoothly calling her bluff.

“Ooh I can look you up in the computer, you will be on file won’t you _Constable_?”

“Vi…”

“Oh, gee I hope so. It’d sure be awkward of I wasn’t.”

Viola’s smile turned dagger sharp and the two of them shared a pointed laugh, maintaining intense eye contact as Vi entered Sly’s name into the computer. “Cooper, Cooper… one ‘p’, two ‘o’s…”

Sly had to fight to keep from smirking as he watched the pointed smile fall from Miss Secretary’s face and her expression shift as she instantaneously went through the five stages of grief. Mouth open, she gaped silently at the monitor.

“Vi is something wrong?” Carmelita leant over her friend’s chair.

“He’s on the system.” Vi’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Constable Silvestra Cooper.”

“He is?” Carmelita blinked. “He is!”

Sly got up to join them, “oh look there I am.” It had been intended as a joke after the Venus in Furs heist, that if Carmelita had ever decided to look up the ‘Constable’ who had checked out the painting she’d find him using the name he'd given her in the club that night, and he’d just never gotten round to asking Bentley to take it down.

“He’s been getting a salary _!_ ” Vi shrieked, pointing at the screen.

He had and he’d been donating it back into Interpol’s Widows and Orphans Fund. “Should I not be?” He asked lightly.

“No, it’s fine.” Carmelita petted his shoulder, staring vaguely shellshocked at the screen.

“Transferred from London.” Vi read out. “Address is listed as 243 Rue du Leve.”

“Oh, good we have somewhere to get me some clean socks.” Sly hoped he didn’t look too smug.

The look Miss Secretary shot him rivalled Carmelita at her best and she exited out of his page with an abrupt gesture. “How nice that this is all working out so easily for you.”

Sly wanted to make a witty comeback but didn’t think it would be wise to push his luck, beside him he saw Carmelita squirm guiltily. God it was a good thing that Sly had wanted to go with her or all of this would have fallen apart instantly, his Inspector was not much of a liar.

But, he supposed, that was one of the things he loved about her.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_Had this gone too far?_ Carmelita wondered as she and Sly walked toward the apartment building that had been listed in his file.

Barkley had been curious about her proposal but had wanted to be sure that the amnesia was genuine first. The doctor had run scans but had been unable to give a conclusive answer, 

“Expose him to places he’s familiar with, that might trigger something.” The doctor had finally advised with a shrug.

Except Carmelita didn’t want Sly’s memories to come back, he’d just run if they did.

But… maybe he wouldn’t maybe he’d stay.

_He didn’t stay before_ , a small voice in the back of her head that sounded FAR too much like Vi snarked at her, _he’s never stayed_.

Carmelita sighed to herself, watching Sly look around, squinting at the numbers, it certainly seemed real. 

And in any case, she’d gone too far to abandon the story now.

“This one.” Sly announced, double checking the scrap of paper he’d scrawled the address on. He looked at the doors. “How are we going to get in?”

“Oh.” Carmelita realised. This was either a fake address or an old safehouse either way, Sly didn’t have a key. Carmelita waited for Sly to make a joke about picking the lock or going in through a window but he didn’t and the absence of it was an unexpected hurt. How did normal people get into apartments without their keys? Vi had a spare key to Carmelita’s apartment, _maybe one of the neighbours have one for here?_ Carmelita thought to herself looking at the keypad.

Carmelita paused, that was a stupid thought. Sly Cooper, master thief would hardly have gone around introducing himself to the neighbours at his hideout. 

Maybe they could buzz a random number and say it was official Interpol business, that’d at least get them in the front door.

“Sly? Is that you dear?”

Carmelita and Sly turned, an elderly female warthog in dark shawl blinked at the pair of them through her thick glasses.

“Oh.” She smiled, eyes crinkling. “It is you.” She held out one of her bulging shopping bags, “be a love and help me out with these.”

Sly took them automatically, “um yes… uh, hi ma’am?”

“Oh, now dear I thought I told you to call me Mildred.” She tottered past pulling out her pass to open the doors. “Do you and your friend have time for a cup of tea?”

“Ma’am.” Carmelita interrupted, pulling out her badge. “Perhaps you can help us with an enquiry?”

“Amnesia?” Mildred said in great surprise once they had explained. “Oh my, that’s not very good for you is it?” She looked from Carmelita to Sly and then back again. “It’s a bit unusual though isn’t it? Like in the stories on the TV.”

“Maybe we should start a show Carmelita,” Sly joked. “The Fierce and the Forgetful?”

Carmelita smiled a little at that, there was some of him still in there. That was good to know.

“And police.” Mildred continued. “No wonder you were away so often, and keeping such odd hours.” She shook her head. “And I’ve just realised, silly me I never thought to ask.”

“That’s alright Mildred.” Sly smiled at her. “The problem right now is, I seem to have lost my key, do you know how we can get into my apartment?”

“Oh yes dear.” Mildred said reaching into her handbag and producing a clanking ring of keys. “I think I can help you with that, I am the caretaker after all.”

Carmelita watched Sly unlock the door to ‘his’ apartment with Mildred’s spare key. She was starting to wonder if she was just incredibly lucky or if maybe Vi was right and Sly was faking and this was all part of some elaborate deception. She didn’t think Sly was lying to her, if he was, he would have had to have been planning this for a very long time. She’d noted the ‘transfer’ date on ‘Constable Cooper’s’ file had been just after they’d shared that kiss in London and the incident with that song but, she thought as she looked back down the stairs this was clearly an older hideout… it had no elevator.

The apartment was musty, the scent of a place long abandoned. The curtains were drawn, dust covers had been thrown over the furniture, it looked like it had even been thoroughly cleaned before the Gang had left it. 

It must have been a favourite, once upon a time.

Sly coughed, “looks like I wasn’t much of a housekeeper.” He said, sounding faintly embarrassed.

“I’ve seen worse.” Carmelita said, pulling open the cupboards and the fridge, they were clean but empty. “You’re not staying here.” She announced.

“I’m not?” Sly looked up from where he’d been poking through the loungeroom.

“Not by yourself, we can come back and clean up after you’ve recovered some more.” She shut the cupboard decisively. “Besides, the doctor said to keep an eye on you, so you can stay at my place.”

“Oh.” He smiled at her. “Alright, let me see if I left a toothbrush here.” He thumbed over his shoulder and wandered toward the bathroom.

Carmelita’s stomach churned, and she forced herself to smile back. She wasn’t keeping him from his memories, she told herself. She was offering to help because he had just suffered a massive head injury, this was for his sake not hers.

Carmelita sighed again; true dishonesty is when you start lying to yourself her mother used to say.

Should she be happy? She wondered. Everything was going her way thus far, a string of convenient Cooper Gang coincidences has reinforced this whole charade, she’d been given everything on a silver platter.

And it didn’t feel right.

Sly met her by the door with a duffle bag over his shoulder. “Found a toothbrush _and_ some clean socks.” He patted the bag. “Ready to go?”

* * *

It had probably been a mistake to take Carmelita to the old hideout, Sly hadn’t realised how much of Bentley and Murray had still been there. It had been a miracle that she hadn’t noticed him sleight-of-hand-ing old circuit boards and back issues of Road Rumble Monthly out of sight. Sly wanted to make this transaction as easy as he could for Carmelita and that meant as little exposure to things that could lead to potentially awkward questions as possible.

And maybe avoiding Miss Secretary for a while.

Still circumstances weren’t too bad, all things considered. Sly wasn’t as good with stats as Bentley but he figured that there would have been at least a 65% chance Carmelita would have still slapped the cuffs on him straight after he’d woken up in the vault.

And this, this was more than he could have hoped for.

This meant that she wanted him too.

That she still wanted him to stay, that maybe he was forgiven for leaving -for running away- after that night they had spent together.

This meant that they both wanted a chance to start over.

Sly perched on the couch watching Carmelita wander restlessly around her apartment, picking things up, moving them, move them back and then putting them down. Sly nudged his duffel, trying not to look around too much, the last time he’d been here he had had the tête-à-tête with Miss Secretary but he supposed for Carmelita the last time he’d been in her apartment had been…  
.

.

.  
 _Oh_.

He cleared his throat, no wonder she was on edge.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, maybe Carmelita thought she was being subtle but her unease was radiating off her in waves.

“Hmm? What? No.” She said, hand closing around the nearest objects to her and feigning a sudden intense interest in them, it happened to be a pile of letters. Carmelita shuffled through them, her snout wrinkling abruptly in distaste.

“Okay now what’s wrong?”

“Ugh.” Carmelita waved the offending envelope. “Interpol’s annual charity ball is coming up.” She opened the letter to squint at the invitation. “At the end of next month apparently.” She sighed heavily. “I’m going to need to get my dress dry-cleaned.”

“If you don’t want to go, why not just not go?” Sly had never been able to imagine Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox doing something that she didn’t want to do.

“It’s a requirement for any officers or staff serving five years or more.” She made it sound like a prison sentence. “I wouldn’t mind, it is for a good cause but there’s just so much _politics_ , everything is politics and double talk and _favours_.” She all but spat the word. “It’s exhausting.”

“Maybe I could go with you.” Sly suggested, “save you from some of the politics.”

“Oh.” Carmelita’s shoulders pulled back and her ears flicked out and up as she considered. “Alright,” she said after a pause. “I’d like that.” And Sly wondered if he imagined that he saw her blush as she turned away, sticking the black and gold edged invitation to the fridge.

Sly grinned, back one day and he already had a date, that was pretty good even for him.

Carmelita was looking at the clock on her wall, clearly doing mental arithmetic, she had a very expressive face. She glanced over her shoulder toward him, “I need to change your bandages.”

“I’m about ready to take them off entirely.” Sly confessed. “They itch.” 

“The doctor said two more days.” Carmelita said flatly. “Hold still.” She retrieved some of the fresh gauze and bandages that the hospital had given them.

Sly resisted the urge to argue, he’d always healed fast it was a Cooper trait he’d always appreciated. He doubted he’d need two more days of the cumbersome and itchy bandages but he didn’t want to push, start a banter, fall back into old habits and give her reasons to doubt. 

He noticed Carmelita looking at him, and he thought she looked sad for a moment but then she looked away to get a pair of scissors and Sly decided he’d misinterpreted the expression.

Carmelita cut away the old bandages and Sly felt her brush away his hair so she could reapply the gauze, this was as close as they’d been since the boat ride back from Kaine Island where Carmelita had clung to him like she’d been afraid he’d disappear. He relaxed slightly letting himself enjoy her proximity.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Look at me.”

Sly obediently tipped his head back and Carmelita braced one hand on his jaw, adjusting him so the light fell where she worked, winding the new bandages around his head. As she finished, she slid the other hand down his cheek so she was cupping his face, straightening his head, checking her handiwork. Sly looked up at her, admiring the intensity in her eyes and the way her nose twitched as she thought, it was very cute.

“There.” She said. “I think we’re done.” She met Sly’s eyes and lingered for a moment, cradling his face in her hands as Sly gazed at her with what he suspected was open adoration. There was a soft, sad sort of smile on Carmelita’s face as she looked at him then, seeming to realise the intimacy of their position, she abruptly withdrew her touch. Snatching her hands back to her chest, suddenly looking anywhere but at Sly. “Are you hungry?” She asked, crossing back to the kitchen and pulling out a binder.

“Uh… yeah, I guess.” Sly sighed, this was uncharted territory. He didn’t know how to comfort, how to reach out while keeping up his act. What would be too much? This was the most delicate tightrope he had ever walked, with the most at stake if he fell.

“What do you feel like?” Carmelita asked, studiously not looking up from her binder.

When they had left the Island Sly had decided to follow Carmelita’s lead, he’d let her set the pace, let her make the moves so if she wanted to pretend their moment hadn’t happened, he’d do the same. He got up and wandered over to Carmelita’s kitchen island, he looked down at her binder and realised it was full of takeaway menus.

“Ah.” He said, “I see you are a woman of international tastes Inspector.” The joke slipping out before he could stop it.

“Lay off Ringtail, I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.” Carmelita shot back then froze at the use of the nickname.

“How about Thai then?” Sly said, leaning over the counter. “I wouldn’t say no to a green curry with prawns.”

“You had that on the plane.”

“So, I know I like it.” He cautiously reached out to touch her hand. “’Ringtail’, I like that too.” He already missed hearing it.

“I shouldn’t…” She looked away.

“Why not?”

“Because I called you that when I was mad at you.”

“Are you mad now?”

Her gaze flashed back to him and the expression in her eyes almost unmade him right there and then. She looked like she had the night he had come to her window, burning. She looked like she had when they had reunited in Venice, at least for the brief second before the rage had kicked in. She looked like she had in the vault, open, vulnerable in a way that he’d never expected her to be. Hopeful.

“No.” She said.

“Then it’s fine.” He said, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand in a way that he hoped was comforting. “We’re starting over right?”

“I…” She looked like she hadn’t considered this until he’d said it. “I guess we are.”

“Then you call me Ringtail and I’ll call you…?”

“’Lita.” She said softly. “You call me ‘Lita.”

“’Lita.” He echoed, grateful he had permission to use the nickname again. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but that would be a bad idea (not that any of the times he’d kissed her and been good ideas) she clearly wasn’t ready for that yet. And it would probably lead to some of those awkward questions he wanted to avoid.  
Carmelita made a breathless little noise and Sly felt his knees go weak at the sound of it, resolve crumbling by the second. He drew his hand away and Carmelita pulled it to her chest again, half turning away from him.

“You can’t just eat one meal for the rest of your life.”

It took Sly a moment to remember that they’d been talking about take away. “I don’t plan to.” He said, or rather wheezed. He cleared his throat struggling to get himself back under control. “I figure I’ll rediscover what I like along the way, but tonight I know one thing I do want and I’m going to have it.”

Carmelita’s head snapped around and she blinked at him.

Sly blinked back, and then he realised how what he said must have sounded. “Curry.” He gasped. “I’m going to have curry. I want curry.”

“Yes.” Carmelita said, a bright red blush roaring onto her face, once again looking anywhere but at Sly. “I’m going to get Pad Thai.” She lunged across the kitchen to grab the phone. “Do you want rice?”

* * *

This had definitely gone too far, Carmelita thought as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It had finally sunk in that she had no idea what she was doing, she had no endgame. Was she really just going to keep lying to Sly in the hopes that his memory never came back? Was she really going to try and make him into a different person? Because that’s what had gotten her into this mess in the first place, the fact that she didn’t want a different person, she wanted Sly and the polite stranger on her couch was not Sly.

He’d held her hand as easily as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he looked at her like…

Did he remember any of what they’d done? He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t asked any questions about that.

And now Carmelita had brought him into her space and it was weird. She half expected him to disappear out the window at any moment and half wanted to grab him and shake him until some answers fell out of him, until he told her why he’d left that night and then why he’d saved her in the that vault.

But this Sly would have no answers for her.

God dammit all, Vi had been right. She couldn’t build a relationship on a lie.

Carmelita sighed into the dark, this had gone on long enough. Tomorrow she would do the right thing. Tomorrow she’d try and help Sly get his memories back.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably one more short chapter (plus epilogue) left to go. Hope y'all are enjoying so far XD


	3. Chapter 3

Sly woke after a somewhat restless sleep on Carmelita’s couch with a crick in his neck and an ache just below his belly. Sighing he rolled himself to his feet and slunk to the bathroom when he emerged, after a long and very cold shower Carmelita was standing at her stove scraping what appeared to be the burnt remains of an attempted breakfast into the bin.

“Good morning.” Sly greeted.

Carmelita looked up at him, put the pan down and said. “We’re going out.”

Not daring to argue, Sly just nodded. “Okay.”

It had seemed like a good idea at first, a day out, maybe a chance for him to get closer, to stop acting like a patient or subordinate and reveal a little more affection.

The two of them had gone out for brunch and then Carmelita had suggested they get some fresh air, taking them on, what turned out to be a Cooper Gang’s greatest hits tour of Paris.

Sly sweated, the woman was testing him, she must be. He should have known that Carmelita was too good of an investigator to buy his story for long.

Maybe Miss Secretary had said something?

Was it time to bail out?

Should he beg?

Sly stared at the old site of Dimitri’s nightclub now one of those obnoxious American coffee chains

Carmelita was looking at the building then back to him.

“Do you… do you want to get a drink?” Sly hazarded, gesturing across the street.

“Hmm? Oh no, their coffee is terrible.” She turned away, “let’s keep going.”

And they did.

To museums.

And galleries.

Past grand houses Sly had robbed.

And wandering routes the two of them had often chased.

By the time they stopped in front of the twinkling window display of the Maison Mellerio jewellery store Sly was sure Carmelita was on to him.

A bead of the nervous sweat that had plagued him all day worked its way down his spine and he began mentally scripting his explanation. He’d tell her that he just wanted to be with her, that he’d been trying to find that elusive third option so that both of them could be happy.

“Sly?” Carmelita prompted gently, “is anything coming back?”

The wail of sirens, Carmelita’s angry voice echoing behind him, Bentley in his ear and a emerald brooch clutched in one hand.

_Did she want him to remember?_

Sly furrowed his brow confused then smiled, more nervously than he would have liked and said, “uhh… not really. Did we work a case here?”

Carmelita’s face fell and she quickly looked away. “Something like that.” She muttered.

Sly stared forlornly at her, he didn’t know what to give her. He wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore, did she want the thief or the fresh start?

He sighed, “not to cut the day short ‘Lita but I’m getting tired. Do you mind if we head back?”

“Oh. Oh yes, of course.” She nodded 

Sly reached out to take her hand then thought the better of it, instead letting it dangle awkwardly at his side. “Is something wrong?” He asked.

“No, no I just thought… maybe you’d remember something.”

Maybe she didn’t know. God what should he say?

“Well… uh… if anything comes back, I’ll let you know.” He said.

A ghost of a smile appeared back on Carmelita’s face and she reached out and took his hand. “Okay.” She said. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

“Do you want to put something on while I make dinner?” Carmelita said as they grateful fell through the door of her apartment. Sly was right it had been a long day.

“Like what?”

Carmelita shrugged, tossing her keys into their bowl on the hall table and opening the fridge. “I don’t mind, a movie? Some music, whatever you feel like.”

“Sure.” Sly replied and she watched walk over to her shelves perusing her vinyl records and her blu-rays.

She turned back to her woefully bare fridge, maybe she could try making her father’s baleada, she had tortillas and beans in the pantry. Or she could make stew, _did she still have fish fillets in the freezer?_ She wondered. It wouldn’t be as good as her mother’s but then it never was.

The opening notes of a song jogged Carmelita from her dinner plans, _was that her Neil Diamond record?_

“Sly?” She called but as she turned around, he was already standing behind her, hand outstretched.

“I remember something.” He said.

A rush of nervous energy filled her, “you do?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded, taking her hands he tugged her away from the kitchen.

She strained, “nooo… I… I have to make dinner.”

“It’ll keep.” He soothed, wrapping an arm around her, he placed a hand in the small of her back and began to sway. “You and I have danced before haven’t we?”

“Oh, we have.” Carmelita said, this was a different kind of dance though. “In more ways than one.”

“And it hasn’t always been strictly professional between us has it?”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Carmelita muttered. The song swelled and Carmelita rested her forehead against Sly’s shoulder, cheeks burning. “Did you have to put _this_ record on?”

“You don’t like it? It’s part of your collection.”

“Of course I like it, it’s just…” cheesy, “it was a gift and sometimes it feels frivolous.” 

“Nothing wrong with a little frivolity on occasion.” He took a breath, “Carmelita I’ve been wondering how to bring this up and I think maybe I should just say it.”

Carmelita’s heart and stomach both lurched peculiarly. “Yes?”

“I remembered one other thing.”

“What?”

“This.” He said, and kissed her.

And in the same way that their dance was different, lacking the simmering undercurrents and technical precision of their tango at Rajan’s ball or the feral abandon of the club, this kiss was different too. It wasn’t one of the frantic stolen things they had shared before, all desperation and need. This kiss was like this dance, slow and gentle, warm and perfect.

And it felt wrong.

Carmelita pushed away, stumbling back and shaking her head. “I can’t do this.”

Sly stared wide eyed, “I… I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong? I thought you…”

“No.” Carmelita collapsed, miserably onto the couch. “I did. This is my fault.” She sunk her face into her hands. “I haven’t been honest with you Sly, you’re not a cop. You’re a thief and I was supposed to catch you but then it got complicated after I helped you defeat an ancient immortal evil owl… twice. And then I met you at a club and we didn’t recognise each other and we danced and it got more complicated. And then we had this moment in London and we kissed again, which was definitely a mistake and I still haven’t forgiven you for that damn song. And then you showed up here one night and we slept together which was as even bigger mistake because it somehow made things even more complicated and you left without saying goodbye and Vi convinced me to go to Venice. And then you showed up there and acted like nothing had changed, then you saved my life but you got hurt and I looked at you and I thought that year in Venice was the loneliest, most terrible year of my life and I didn’t want to be without you anymore. And I said the first thing that came into my head because I thought maybe we could try again… I thought maybe this time you’d stay.”

As she babbled, tripping over her words in her rush to get the confession off her chest, Sly knelt in front of her and took her face in his hands.

“’Lita.” He said gently. “’Lita it’s okay. I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“You know?” She repeated, voice cracking.

“Yes, I know everything because…”

“You don’t have amnesia.”

“… I don’t have amnesia.”

Carmelita blinked, once, twice, then lunged grabbing Sly by the collar and sending them both crashing to the floor.

“’Lita, ‘Lita wait don’t kill me.” Sly cried, struggling to get out from underneath her.

“Give me one good reason.” Carmelita snarled. “I’ve been dying over this.”

“How do you think I felt?” Sly retorted. “I just wanted to be with you, I wanted to try and fix things and then you told me I was a cop and I had to go along with it.”

Carmelita relaxed her grip but remained kneeling over Sly. He had a point, they’d both been at fault, they had both been lying out fear of reprisal from the other and god damn it all Vi had been right, again.

Sighing she got to her feet and crossed to the window. She opened it for him. “Here.” She said, standing aside. “Go…. I’ll even give you a ten second head start.”  
It had been a nice fantasy, silly notion of a future and a fresh start but she should have known it couldn’t last, that they would always end up going back to cops and robbers.

“No.” Sly said, he sat up but otherwise made no attempts to move.

“No?”

“No.” Sly repeated. “I already left once when I should have stayed and I’m not making that mistake again. How many times do you want me to say it ‘Lita? I went with you on Kaine Island because I want to start over, because I want to be with you.” He got to his feet and his eyes were burning as he looked at her. “I walked into Interpol for you. I left my cane behind for you Carmelita Montoya Fox, what does that say about my intentions?” He walked toward her, heavy and purposeful and closed the window. “I’m here and I want to stay because I… because I love you.”

“You want to stay?” Carmelita echoed.

“Yes.”

“You love me?”

Colour scorched into his face and the heated intensity in his gaze vanished as he squirmed. “Yesss.”

“I…” She stuttered. Why else had she done all this? Why else had she missed her Sly so much? Why else had the lie felt like such a betrayal? “I love you too.”

“’Lita…”

Carmelita flung herself at him, pulling him against her, tugging at his shirt, kissing him for all she was worth.

Sly groaned, his nimble fingers turning clumsy as he tried to help.

He wanted to stay; they could start again.

And this time they’d get it right.

The two of them lay together on Carmelita’s Turkish rug, the afghan from the couch pulled over them. Carmelita’s head resting on Sly’s chest, his arm around her shoulders and the tick, tick, tick of the finished record repeating in the background.

“So now what?” Sly asked, playing with a loose tendril of Carmelita’s hair.

“We order take out and we eat it in bed.” Carmelita replied. “As for the long term, that’s up to you. Do you actually want to be Interpol?”

“I dunno it seems… complicated.”

Carmelita hummed, “it is. But if you’re serious about giving up thieving…”

Sly kissed the top of her head. “I am.”

“Then we’ll need to find something for you to do.” 

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yes the Neil Diamond song they were dancing to was Carmelita's Eyes don't @ me)


	4. Epilogue

* * *

~One Month Later~

The metro ballroom was decked out with black and gold banners, balloons and waitstaff bearing trays of tiny canapes.

It was an atmosphere Sly normally loved, people with too much money and too little attention to their possessions. And even though tonight he was determinedly keeping his sticky fingers to himself, he was still having a good time, after all he had the most amazing woman in the world on his arm.

Sly took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and surveyed the room, Carmelita had been whisked away to be used as a ‘shining example of Interpol’s diversity and drive’ to some potential benefactor and Sly was waiting the prerequisite ten minutes before he went and saved her.

“Hello Mister Master Thief.” A soft voice at his elbow said.

Sly choked on his champagne, Vi was standing beside him. He almost didn’t recognise her in her dark blue evening gown and impossibly tall silver heels, she must have had contacts in so Sly was subjected to the full weight of her gaze.

“Miss Cecily.” He greeted once he’d recovered the ability to speak. “I don’t…”

“Don’t be coy.” She said taking a sip of her own drink. “Carmelita told me everything.”

“Oh, so she gets to tell people.” Sly muttered feeling a remarkable sense of déjà vu.”

“We had a word after I filed your ‘medical discharge’ and early ‘retirement’ forms.” She mimed air quotes.

“I have a head injury.” Sly said, tapping his temple.

“Mm. And what was your excuse before?”

Sly laughed. “Are you sure you’re a mouse? You don’t have some wolverine in you maybe?”

“I thought it was impolite to discuss one’s species in mixed company?” Vi smirked at him, raising her eyebrows.

“My apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it. I came over to warn you, Barkley was sorry to lose you as a potential asset; he’s been grumbling about it for days. He might try and corner you tonight, see if he can’t talk you back onto the force.”

“He could always hire me.” Sly said, handing Vi one of his brand new business cards.

“Cooper Consulting?” Vi read out. “Security preventions and private investigations?”

“That’s me.” Sly said. “Just something to keep me busy.”

Vi gave him a sceptical look, “just you? Will you be able to manage a business on your own?”

“I have some… subject matter experts on retainer if I need help.”

Vi went to hand him back the card but Sly stopped her,

“No. Keep it.”

She tucked the card away. “Well then mister private consultant I expect we’ll be seeing a fair bit of you around the office?”

“I hope so. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” He joked.

“And you and Carmelita will have to join Jacques and I for dinner.”

“We will?” Sly wondered if this was a tacit sign of approval or if Miss Secretary just wanted to keep an eye on him.

“Third Saturday of the month at our place.”

“I look forward to it.”

Vi laughed and Sly felt that nervous sweat start to bead his brow again.

“You be good to her, won’t you? Because I’ll know if you don’t.” Her tone was light but there was steel in her blue eyes.

Sly was going to count his shoes when he got home. “As good as I’m able to be… which is going to be amazing because that’s what she deserves.” He continued hurriedly as Vi did that thing again where she stared directly into his soul.

She nodded, apparently accepting this and drained her glass, as she did another mouse, this one with fur a colour almost to match her dress and impeccably waxed whiskers materialised with two fresh glasses.

“One more darling?” He offered one to Vi.

“Thank you Jacques. Sly have you met my husband, Jacques Greyfairés?”

The two men nodded at each other. “A pleasure.”

“Indeed.”

“The _former Constable_ and I were just discussing his new business venture.”

Sly passed him a card.

“Cooper?” Jacques read, eyes widening. “Sly Cooper?” He chuckled. “Must be difficult being a raccoon in law enforcement with a name like that.”

Sly just smiled.

Jacques tucked the card into his breast pocket, “Tell me Constable do you play cards?”

“I’ve been known to try my hand.”

“Wonderful, I’ve had an opening in my weekly poker game, if you’d like to play.”

“I’d love to.” Sly said grinning, Vi leant around from behind her husband’s shoulder and shot Sly such a look that all thoughts of cheating were banished from his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have someone I need to find.”

Sly rescued Carmelita from a boar who had been waffling about donating a hospital wing and leering unpleasantly at Carmelita’s chest.

“Oh, thank god.” Carmelita muttered as Sly drew her away. “I need some fresh air.” She bee-lined for the double doors leading out to the balcony, pushing them open and stepping out into the balmy Parisian night.

“Not having a good time?” Sly joked.

“Having a better time now.” She said turning to him with a bright smile.

It filled his heart to see her so happy. “I’m glad.” He said. He took both her hands in his, “thank you. For taking this chance.”

She shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re here, that we’re here. That we can try again.”

Sly stood there for a moment basking in the warmth of her smile and then he felt the distinctive sensation of being watched. He flicked his gaze out toward the skyline, he thought he saw a brief flash from a neighbouring rooftop. He resisted the urge to shake his head, Bentley never quite had mastered the art of recon photos, he always held the binocucom a little too high. Smiling he cast a wink in the general direction, it was sweet of the guys to check up on him. He’d have to get in contact soon, let them know that he was alright.

But right now, he had a lady to attend to and a party to go back to.

“Ready to head back in?”

Carmelita sighed, “if we must.”

“C’mon ‘Lita we have to at least stay long enough for you to have a dance with me, listen…” He tilted his head. “They’re playing our song.”

_fin_


End file.
